Tales from Middle Earth, The Worm
by grecian
Summary: An elf, a ranger and a rather pesky worm. How can something so small cause so much pain...
1. Chapter 1

1

His grip on the gritty bars that held them captive was desperate. Face pressed up against the cold metal his breath rasping shakily through his lips he asked.

"What are they doing? What do they do to him?" his voice was barely above an tortured whisper. He strained to see past the bulk of orcs that were struggling to hold Legolas down. The elf's frantic shouts were drowned in a swell of orcan guffaws and bellows.

"It's a worm, they's put a worm in his 'ead captain." A tall prisoner answered him. He could just barely see.

Aragorn twisted as much as he could in the tight space.

"What? What are you saying man, they do not slay him?"

"No sir they's put a rout worm in his ear."

"A rout worm?" Aragorn repeated stupidly.

"Aye sir, lives 'neath the skin it does."

A sudden agonized scream rent the air.

There was sudden silence as the prisoners strained forward, yearning to see yet terrified to know. Aragorn was pinioned flat against the rusty bars but he could see well enough now that the orcs stepped back to admire their handiwork. Legolas' heels drummed against the ground as his body jerked spasmodically. White froth gathered at the corners of his mouth. The orcs laughed as the elf made unconscious sounds of pain.

In horror Aragorn could not speak. Tears gathered in his bloodshot eyes.

"It's only the worm sir, It's burrowing in 'is 'ead. He'll stop beatin' up like that once it settles."

"It's killing him." Aragorn sobbed.

"No sir, it dasn't kill yer."

Aragorn felt a momentary surge of hope but then the soldier continued.

"It drives you mad though the deeper it goes, then soon you're not good for naught. T'was better they'd killed 'im right off.

Aragorn did not have the time to answer for the orcs, already tiring of the elf turned to the holding pen for a new victim.

They held him down, neck bared for the cruellest of cuts. But Aragorn was past caring. Captured during battle he, his men and Legolas had been forced into small, bare, rusty cages and left to starve. Now and then the orcs would drag out a weakened victim and torture him to death. At times they would toss scraps of bread and meat at them. Hungered, the men would scramble for the dry crusts like animals. The orcs would always laugh heartily.

Of the twenty odd soldiers captured only twelve were left.

It was Legolas who had stopped Aragorn from giving in, Legolas who fought for extra scraps to keep him alive, Legolas who had held him quietly as he sobbed when hunger and tiredness became too much to bear.

And now he lay discarded on the ground, eyes slightly open, body trembling minutely, dirt and blood ground into his face.

"Goodbye mellon nin." Aragorn whispered between dry cracked lips.

He felt a rush of air as the orc swung, then a sharp pain, then nothing as darkness descended.

000

The first drops of rain washed over the bodies that were strewn across the trampled earth. Then it began to pour in earnest. It soaked into the matted grass and washed the black blood of the slain orcs into the ground. The water ran in rivulets down Aragorn's face as he lay unconscious under the bodies of the very orcs who had tried to behead him. The water ran into his open mouth and nostrils and it was this intrusion that brought him back to himself. He spluttered as he came awake and tried to move but there was something heavy on his back. He shifted and it slid off with a sodden thump.

There was a burning pain on the side of his neck. When he put a shaking hand there it came away sticky with blood. Dazed he stared at his reddened hand.

"How?" his mind asked.

Then his bleary eyes saw the open empty cages and the dead orcs. In disbelief he pulled at a broken spear that was buried in the back of an orc close to him. The metal horse shaped tip gleamed dully.

"Rohirrim riders," he said to himself.

Then his eyes sought the empty cages again. They had freed his men. Had they thought him dead and left him there?

"Did they even see me? he questioned the air.

Then he stiffened in sudden remembrance. "Legolas!"

He scrambled to his feet searching the sodden ground. No sign of the elf did he find though he overturned many a dead carcass.

"They would have taken him to safety." he reassured himself. Yet he was driven to search for signs of his friend until dizziness overcame him.

He found the tracks of the raiding party and began to follow them west. The hoof prints of the horses were deep and fresh in spite of the rain, so he had no trouble trailing them. They had a lead of at least four hours he guessed. If they stopped to camp he would catch up to them by nightfall. If not he would simply follow their trail to their village. At least he would if he could keep to his feet. The debilitating effect of his enforced incarceration had weakened him terribly.

As a weapon he carried with him the broken spear, for he had lost his sword to the orcs weeks ago.

By the time evening had come he realized that he could not hope to catch up without food and rest. He had run out his reserves. Seeking out a partially secluded spot, he crawled between two boulders and instantly fell asleep. His fingers were curled around the haft of his makeshift sword.

The rain fell softly down.

A serpent seeking out a drier spot wound its way up and over the ranger's legs but he felt it not. He slept the sleep of exhaustion.

000

'Water', it was his first thought on awakening. His head felt tender and dull. Moving cautiously he crawled from between his temporary shelter and stood on shaky legs. The rain had stopped. Night was upon him yet not total darkness, for the moon was nigh full and the stars shone brightly in the rain washed sky. It was no small wonder that the horsemen guarded these plains so viciously. Such beauty was precious.

0

He found a small pond fed by an underground stream. Falling upon it he drank greedily. Then he washed his face and neck gingerly rubbing away the caked blood and grit. His skin felt warm to his own hands and he knew the wound needed stitching and medicine.

"And I need nourishment," he whispered.

00

There was not just one but a series of ponds dotting the area. Aragorn held the spear across his chest and settled down to wait in the shadows. Some sort of creature **must** visit these ponds. He just hoped that it was small enough to kill and good enough to eat.

He must have drifted off for an unexpected sound jerked him to attention. Holding his breath he listened intently for he could see nothing.

There was no sound for a while, then came a strange scraping and a soft low whine. He let out a sigh of disappointment. A dog of some sort. It was approaching from the left, an area of rock and shadow. He could hear it clearly; it was dragging itself over rock and brush. It would stop now and then and let out a pitiful whine. Aragorn did not move. A wounded animal was more than he could deal with just then.

But the creature kept coming. It finally dragged itself into partial view and stopped. It lifted its head and seemed to shiver. It was still mostly in shadow but the moon shone on its bright golden head.

"Legolas!" The shout burst from Aragorn horrified lips.

00

Legolas was trembling. His ears were bloody from his repeated clawing at them to relieve the pain. Aragorn cradled him, he cupped handfuls of water and washed away the dried blood from his swollen ears. But Legolas only tossed his head wearily and made that pitiful sound deep down in his throat.

"I have you Legolas, I have you." Aragorn soothed, but his tears belied his words for he did not know how to begin to cure this ill. But Legolas could not hear him, he could hear nothing but the high pitched squeal of the worm as it burrowed into him.

0

Aragorn rocked him and talked to him as the night slowly passed but Legolas did not sleep. He could not. But the rumble of Aragorn's voice vibrated through him and he found that it lessened the pain.

Aragorn slept fitfully coming awake every time Legolas shifted. He felt feverish as well and knew that if aid did not find them soon, theirs would be a lingering death.

"What shall we do mellon nin."

000

The morning light was bright and Aragorn woke to find Legolas gone. He leapt to his feet forgetting his hunger and thirst. A quick search showed him erratic tracks heading north. Aragorn ran for he knew how fast the elf could move, especially when alone.

0

Legolas was walking in a straight line across the plains, one hand clasped over his right ear, head down. His long hair was loose and bedraggled, blowing fitfully in the wind. Aragorn ran after him calling out many times, but Legolas neither slowed nor turned around. At last the ranger overtook him halting his forward motion by simply standing in his way. Grasping him by the shoulder Aragorn shook him. Red rimmed eyes looked into his.

"Where are you going?" Aragorn gasped. "Do you not know me?"

"I must get home." Legolas replied tonelessly.

"Home! You are hundreds of leagues from your father's realm. How do you hope to get there?" Aragorn asked a little despairingly.

Legolas looked off into the distance for a few moments and then back at Aragorn. It was enough time for Aragorn to see the line of blood that had leaked from inside his ear to darken the collar of his tunic.

"Come with me mellon nin. Nothing lies out there but death."

0

It was easy to turn Legolas away. He walked woodenly without complaining one hand cupped over his ear, following where Aragorn lead. But every now and then Legolas would stop and stare back at the way they had come.

"Come," Aragorn would say and then Legolas would look at **him** and begin walking again. Aragorn walked until he felt light headed and black dots floated before his eyes. Only a little more, he coaxed himself for not too far ahead was a tree dotted stretch of plain that was rich in tubers, berries and small game.

0

Cherries he found by the handful among the short shrubby bushes that bore them. These he gathered in the skirt of his tunic along with a few tubers that could be eaten without cooking. He stopped to rest when they came to a grove of trees and dividing up the spoils began to eat steadily. Legolas looked down at his lapful of fruit. He seemed unsure what to do. But hearing Aragorn munching wetly he put a red one to his mouth and tasting the sweetness put another. Soon he was eating just as hungrily.

0

The Rout worm, so named by farmers from Rohan to Gondor was not a worm at all but a parasite. Its saliva could dissolve any type of flesh and in this way it would eat its way deep into its victim to lay its eggs. It was very thin and short and hard to get rid of. It also emitted an unbearably high pitched squeal with every vibration of its body as it burrowed. It was a sound human ears could not hear and elves and animals could not bear. This worm was having a most difficult time with its present endeavours however for it had to work twice as hard to penetrate this elven flesh. And so by the close of that day the worm rested from its labours.

0

The sudden silence was like a deluge of cold water. Legolas gasped, his shoulders and head drooping with the abrupt absence of pain. Aragorn was suddenly there holding him by the arms in a vicelike grip, his face a mask of concern.

"Aragorn," Legolas whispered in wonder and touching the ranger's face found that Aragorn was burning up with fever.

……………………………………………….


	2. Chapter 2

2

There was no pot to boil water so Legolas did the next best thing. With twigs and dried brush and some flint he made a fire. He fed it patiently for the ground was not dry enough to support it well. But at last it blazed and he held the metal edge of the broken spear in the flames until it glowed red. Aragorn, who was sitting with his back against the trunk of a tree swallowed hard as Legolas came to sit near him. They looked at each other. Aragorn's face was flushed with fever and his unruly brown hair was stuck to his head in places. A few tendrils brushed his sweating forehead.

"I could not stay still enough," he whispered.

"I know," said Legolas.

He let his forehead touch Aragorn's briefly, then he straddled the ranger's legs making sure he tucked his feet firmly under Aragorn's knees.

"Sit on your hands," he commanded softly.

Aragorn complied. Then Legolas ran his fingers deep into Aragorn's hair and took hold. The wound was an ugly and angry reddish/yellow colour.

"Ready?" Legolas asked.

Aragorn nodded but they both knew he was lying. Legolas steadied himself and tilted Aragorn's head to the side. He could see the quickening of the rise and fall of the ranger's chest. Without further delay he lanced open the wound. Aragorn's shout of pain was instant, he bucked involuntarily but Legolas bore down on him, effectively curtailing his movements. When Aragorn would have pulled his head away Legolas forced it still, by tightening his grip on the ranger's slick hair.

Pus, then blood, then a clear liquid ran from the wound. Aragorn moaned pitifully but Legolas did not release him. He pressed the blade down hard on the torn skin, forcing all the virulent mess out. Aragorn shuddered with extra pain and then went limp. Legolas caught him as he slumped. He laid him on the ground. He washed the wound with crushed kingsfoil leaves that grew abundantly around. Then he squeezed the juice of the nettle weed into the wound. It was bitter and it stung, but it would help the wound to heal faster and keep infection at bay. Then Legolas curled up wearily next to Aragorn and slept.

0

The pain hit when he had drifted into a deep sleep. His body clenched and a scream built up in his throat. He thrashed, slamming heavily against Aragorn. The impact loosed his voice and his scream ripped through the night. The sound awakened Aragorn who lunged to his feet, expecting the worst.

Legolas was twisting frantically from side to side, his head banging against the solid earth in a bid to escape the pain.

When his screams were spent he began to make gasping choking sounds. As his hands formed claws a still groggy Aragorn grabbed at them. Legolas began to yowl.

They grappled and finally Aragorn dropped full length on Legolas to stop him from hurting himself. Slowly the cries subsided and the thrashing stopped. Legolas began to whimper deep down in his throat. He opened pain darkened eyes to stare at nothing. Aragorn could feel him trembling.

For the first time in many years Aragorn felt helpless. Legolas was in such pain and there was nothing he could do. He had squeezed both the juices of the athelas and nettle into Legolas ear. But so far there had been no positive response. Was the worm too deep inside or simply impervious to normal remedies.

00

The rain began to pour, impervious to the plight of the man and elf below who struggled to cross the plains. They slogged through the vast muddy fields heading south west towards the border of Rohan and Gondor. Small farms and villages were plentiful along this route so Aragorn hoped to find help and soon.

0

They were soaked to the skin and cold. Aragorn's hair was plastered to his skull and his clothing stuck to his body. With every step his boots squelched in the grass and mud. Legolas was oblivious to the downpour. Rain ran down the wet sheath of his hair, down his back, soaked his clothing and gathered in his boots, but his body was only attuned to the mind numbing squealing of the worm. Aragorn held his hands as they walked for if he did not Legolas would dig at his ears mindlessly. They came to a low hillock of rock, this Aragorn climbed to gauge their progress. Far in the distance he thought he could see buildings. A farm perhaps not a village because there were not many of the structures.

Aragorn's fever had abated, but he was still weak and hungry. Yet he did not slip or stagger as they plodded forward. He was determined to get to safety. After three hours of walking, the muddy grassland gave way to a firmer, stonier soil. Aragorn hunkered down with Legolas next to a tall outcropping of stone. It did not protect them from the elements but he was tired. Legolas knelt in the rain. His face was impassive but his eyes were glazed with pain.

"Soon Legolas, soon we will be there," Aragorn said to him, brushing golden tendrils off his forehead. There was no response; Aragorn could not know that his tears mingled with the rain.

The buildings grew larger the longer they walked and Aragorn could clearly see the farm and out buildings. There were crops of cabbage, corn and carrots spread over an acre of land. But they were still a few miles away from the nearest one. The rain had lessened and now Aragorn walked with one arm looped around Legolas' waist, for the elf's feet dragged and his eyes were closed. His body hummed with such tension that Aragorn was afraid that like a bow strung too tightly, he would suddenly snap. His weight, though lighter than a man's, rested fully on Aragorn and the ranger was hard put to keep to his feet.

He finally put all thought out of his mind and gave over to his instincts. Move, fight, survive. It was this mantra that measured their pace as the miles wore on and on. Hunger gnawed at his belly and fever worried him. His neck felt hot and sore, but he would not stop now. Head down against the rain he ploughed on. His heart pounded a little too fast and his breath came a little too quick but Aragorn did not stop. When he looked up again he noticed they walked in a field of cabbage. He sniffed and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve.

"Almost there," he whispered hoarsely to his somnolent companion.

If Legolas heard he gave no sign. He was in renewed torment for the worm had found the perfect place to make its nest hole. A place so delicate that it affected the balance of the body, a place so delicate that the slightest hurt was magnified tenfold. The worm positioned itself and began to burrow.

Legolas screamed out in anguish. His hands flew up to pound at his head, knocking Aragorn sideways and off his feet. Legolas went up on his toes in agony, clawing at his head, screaming all the while. His body whipped back and forth in pain. He began to tear at his hair.

Aragorn tried to get up, he wanted to, he needed to, but he had hit his head hard when he had fallen and his body had had enough abuse. His eyes dimmed as he helplessly watched Legolas do a macabre dance of pain in the falling rain.

……………………………………………….


	3. Chapter 3

3

Suspended, floating, lifted, carried. A feather like touch on his brow. He turned to embrace it but a hand stopped him, pushed him back.

"Rest boy," a gravelly voice said.

Aragorn wanted to speak, to ask something, but instead slipped back into cool oblivion.

00

There was sunlight on his face. He cracked his eyes open and it was cool despite the brightness. He heard his own voice say something, then there was a shadow. He looked up and saw a familiar face. He blinked or so he thought but his eyes did not open again that day.

000

"Aragorn…Aragorn," the voice was persistent. Aragorn opened his eyes to see Legolas hovering there, a bowl of something hot in his hands. Though the ranger could not remember, this had been their routine for the last eight days. Legolas would wake him, feed him and then let him drift back to sleep. The wound on his neck was at last healing. He would recover soon. Legolas smiled as Aragorn mumbled something.

"Sleep stubborn one, you will need your strength soon enough." The smile slipped off Legolas' face as he said this but Aragorn's eyes were already closed. He reached down and ran his fingers along Aragorn's brow, pushing back wilful wisps of brown hair.

Legolas sighed, already he could feel the faint tingles of the worm as it awoke.

00

On the day that Aragorn woke up the small farm house was empty. He got off the cot where he had lain for many days, clutched the thin blanket around his waist and drifted to the small window nearby. He hung onto the sill to stay upright. He felt as weak as a new born colt but his mind was clear. The pain and the fever were gone. He looked out at the clear skies and saw that there were miles of wheat grass in the field swaying gracefully in the wind. Turning he crossed the wooden floor to the doorway like an old man. There were two closed doors, one to either side of a short corridor. The corridor led to a kitchen. There was a sturdy wood hewn table in one corner with four solid chairs around it. Going further in he noticed shelves of cups, plates, jars and bowls along three of the walls. An iron stove took up most of far corner. A pot bubbled merrily on it. A pile of wood was heaped nearby to feed its round belly. The front door stood open but Aragorn was tired. Besides, the scent of the bubbling stew made his mouth water.

00

He sat there soaking up the heat from the stove wondering where the elf and their benefactor could be. He did not have to wait very long for only after two hours he heard an unfamiliar voice and a heavy tread drawing nearer. He got to his feet unsure of his reception.

However it was Legolas who first stepped through the door and on seeing Aragorn standing there his taunt face brightened into a smile. Close behind him was the stocky form of the farmer, they were both bearing small sacks of produce. The man, who introduced himself as Hiram, bustled off to find warm clothes for Aragorn. Soon they were seated around the table each with a steaming plate of stew.

"T'is a miracle you live lad. Got quite a crack on yer head. Seen folks die with less." Hiram informed him merrily.

Aragorn smiled briefly looking across at the silent Legolas, who ate with suspicious concentration. The farmer babbled on about his place, the seasons and general woes.

Aragorn could not eat more than half his share which Hiram said was a good sign. Some, quote the farmer could not even keep down a crumb. Afterward Hiram collected the plates put them in the wash tub to soak and pulling out a corn pipe said.

"I'll leave ye to talk younglings," he nodded to Legolas and disappeared through the doorway.

"Quite a character." Aragorn said smiling.

"Indeed," Legolas agreed folding his hands on the table. "How do you feel?" he asked directly, his blue eyes shining in the bright light.

"A bit weak, but otherwise well." Aragorn responded.

"Good," Legolas said, "then you'll be able to travel within a couple of days."

Aragorn tilted his head curiously. "What is wrong mellon nin?"

Legolas shook his head. "I would have you away from here."

Aragorn frowned for Legolas avoided his gaze. But before he could ask another question Hiram entered shaking droplets of rain from his dark head. "Rain's started up again, but t'is the season for it."

Legolas stood and going over to the tub began washing up the dirty crockery. Hiram talked and talked but his words were only noise to Aragorn as he watched Legolas work.

00

His head was nestled on his arms and he was sleeping without knowing when he had drifted off. Legolas had finished washing and cleaning the vegetables. He had stocked the stove and the fireplace with a fresh supply of wood. He was almost done sweeping the floors when a sudden tickle in his ear made him gasp. Hiram who was seated in the shadows puffing away watched him through a curl of smoke and said. "It's nearly about time for your next round, put yer friend to bed an' come to me when yur done."

Legolas nodded briefly and Hiram rose and walked heavily to the back room. Legolas sighed. Ignoring the painful movement in his head he gathered Aragorn in his arms and carrying him to the darkened bed room placed him on the freshly made up cot. The ranger did not stir. With shaking hands Legolas lit the one lamp that stood on the short corner table and turned the flame down to a glow. He resisted the urge to scream and simply pressed one hand to his head. He entered the room where Hiram waited. The farmer held a small jar that was a quarter full of viscous liquid in one hand.

"Hurry lad," he said.

Legolas closed the door with a feeling of dread.

Soon enough there was a muffled grunt, a cry of pain, then there was silence.

00

Legolas was already at work in the fields when Aragorn ventured outside the next day. The elf was cutting down long stalks of grass with a scythe in a fallow field. He was bare to the waist and his hair was caught up in a top knot on his head.

"You're up early," he called to Aragorn as the ranger paused to watch him work. But Aragorn's face was set and he did not reply to the elf's banter. Legolas stopped and leaned on the scythe's long handle, his face carefully expressionless.

"He says you agreed to work through the sowing season." Aragorn said jerking a thumb in the direction of the farm house.

"I did." Legolas said.

"Three months?"

"Yes."

"Why?" the ranger ground out.

"He needs the help." Legolas said.

Eyes narrowing Aragorn asked, "How is it that your head no longer hurts Legolas?"

"He had…medicine." Legolas answered looking away from Aragorn's stormy eyes.

"So this is payment?" Aragorn took two steps nearer.

"It is," Legolas said his blue eyes darkening as they met the ranger's gaze.

Aragorn stared at him seeing the lie in his eyes.

"Then I too will stay," he declared.

"No, you will not!" Legolas shouted, his head went up and his hair swung onto one shoulder.

Aragorn was taken aback by his sudden anger. They stared at each other awhile, then Legolas looked away. His back was ramrod straight, his lips set. Aragorn almost asked a question, but then turned away and made his way back to the farm house. When he was out of sight Legolas began attacking the grass with swift vicious strokes.

00

Lunch was a silent affair. Legolas had come in about an hour before to prepare the meal ignoring Aragorn who sat at the table. When the pot began to steam he asked one question. "Where is Hiram?"

"In the back, he said he had some curing to do."

Legolas nodded and turned his back on the ranger for the next hour.

Aragorn sighed, he knew how stiff necked Legolas could be.

Legolas spooned soup into two bowls and brought them to the table.

It smelled delicious and Aragorn who was terribly hungry dug in with relish. Legolas smiled to see him eat so. The ranger's face was still pale and Legolas could tell he was too frail to travel yet. Maybe in a week, he thought.

When Aragorn had had enough he stood meaning to take his plate over to the washtub.

"Leave it," Legolas commanded curtly. "I will see to the dishes when I am through."

Taken aback at his tone Aragorn stared at the elf with hurt eyes. Then he turned and disappeared through the front door. Legolas sighed.

00

Aragorn sat huddled on an old broad tree stump that stood close to the back of the house. The winds had picked up and the ranger felt cold, but he did not care. Legolas found him there, he draped the blanket he carried over his shoulders. Though Aragorn was grateful for the warmth, he was determined not to show it.

"I am sorry," Legolas said crouching down in front of his friend.

Aragorn's cross expression did not waver.

"Please Aragorn you are not well enough to be out in this, it will rain soon,"

Aragorn looked directly into Legolas' eyes and said, "Then tell me what is happening here. It is not often you lie to me Legolas but usually there is a good reason."

Legolas could not help the rueful smile that touched his lips. "I shall, but first let us get out of this wind."

With a nod Aragorn let Legolas help him back to the house. Yet he was not to hear the full account just yet for Hiram was in the kitchen an overflowing bowl of soup before him. He began conversing with them both only pausing to shove mouthfuls of the steaming meal in his mouth and swallow. In resignation Aragorn took a seat at the table while Legolas stood by the window watching the rain pour down outside. The farmer prattled on and on.

0

The skies turned from bright to grey then to a forced twilight as the rain poured down unceasingly. Hiram came to stand at Legolas' side. He put a large hand on the elf's shoulder, "Yer friend's asleep." the farmer said softly. Legolas turned to see Aragorn sleeping at the table, his head resting on his folded arms.

"Best put 'im to bed and get on with it."

For one moment Legolas looked at Hiram. The farmer's broad face was guileless and open. His stocky body offered no threat, yet he effortlessly held both their lives in his hands. Legolas went to Aragorn and swept him up easily. Hiram watched this display of strength with strange eyes. When Legolas left the room the farmer turned to the window and began to rub his hands as though he were cold.

……………………………………………


	4. Chapter 4

4

Legolas was nowhere to be seen when Aragorn got up the next morning, but Hiram was there cutting up what looked like snails in the kitchen.

"He's out in the field," said the farmer to Aragorn's unspoken question. "Set down yer breakfast is getting cold."

But Aragorn had no appetite that morning. he had had a restless night filled with macabre visions. He ran his fingers along the scar on the left side of his neck. It was thinly bandaged and still hurt when he touched it.

"Leave that alone now," Hiram cautioned seeing him picking at it. "Or you'll undo all my hard work."

Aragorn obediently reined in his finger. "You know a lot about medicine?" he questioned pushing around the still warm porridge with a wooden spoon.

"Aye," said the older man. "Comes from a life time of travels. I picked up a thing or two here and there."

"So you are not of Rohan." Aragorn said boldly.

Hiram gave a short bark of laughter and shook his head. His hands still deftly cutting up the slimy creatures.

"Nope. Came here nigh on eight year ago. Just like you I was on my way to someplace else. Got caught in a terrible thunderstorm, hurt bad, woke up here, took a long, long time to heal. The place grew on me, the old farmer who owned it needed an extra hand and I needed a home. So I just stayed on."

"Like you hope we will." Aragorn said flatly.

Hiram hands stilled in shock and his head went up. His obsidian eyes stared at Aragorn for a heartbeat then dropped as he began slicing once more.

"Now why would you say you say such a thing young un."

"You've three months of work out of my friend for helping us so far." Aragorn accused.

There was silence as Hiram stopped what he was doing and looked at Aragorn again.

"He hasn't told you, has he?" Hiram asked softly.

"Told me what?" Aragorn whispered a small knot of fear gripping his insides.

Hiram smiled sadly.

"Yur friend is dying lad…"

00

Legolas broke off from his labours as he spied Aragorn making his way across the field. He could tell just by the way he held his body that the ranger knew. As Aragorn drew closer the look on his face confirmed it.

"He told you," Legolas said without preamble.

"I will not accept it there must be another way?'

"There is no other way Aragorn." Legolas replied tiredly.

"So you are content to spend your days in this place, tending the field and seeding the ground!"

"It is not such a hardship." Legolas said looking off in the distance.

Aragorn stared at his profile in disbelief. To give in so easily! This was not the Legolas he knew.

"I will find a way." Aragorn declared angrily and abruptly strode off.

00

Aragorn's mind churned as he walked. The conversation he had had with Hiram burning in his mind.

/ "Yur friend is dying lad, dying of the worm."

"You're lying, He is free of pain. He told me you had medicine."

"I do, and he must have it every night to keep the worm aslumber. And every day after I needs must brew more and stronger for the worm is a hardy creature, I know of naught that can kill it outright."

"What are you saying?" Aragorn asked through pale lips.

"That I will do as much as I can for as long as I can, but there will come a day when the medicine will affect it not."/

Out of breath Aragorn dropped to his knees in the midst of a field. What doom had befallen them? He ran his long fingers abstractedly through his unruly hair. '_There must be a way,' _he thought, '_there must be.'_

00

He did not stop walking until the sky was long dark and the winds strong over the fields. He was past tired, longing only for warmth and food. He turned back only to see that the light in the farmhouse window was a distant glow. Too soon his legs began to tremble with exhaustion. He was appalled at this frailty, but knew that not only the wound he bore but his weeks of terrible confinement had brought him low. He struggled to maintain an even pace. Too far, he had come too far. The light seemed to dip and waver and Aragorn wondered just how weary he was when he realised that the light moved because it was held aloft by one who searched for him.

Armed with a heavy cloak and a lantern Legolas met him half way.

"You foolish man!" the elf exclaimed, wrapping the ranger swiftly in the warm folds of cloth. Laughing a little madly, Aragorn gave himself over to Legolas' ministrations. Legolas felt him tremble beneath the layers of cloth. When the laughter turned to sobs Legolas closed his eyes against the onslaught of his own sadness. He murmured meaningless promises against the dark head. He felt Aragorn go limp as the ranger's body finally gave out.

To have survived weeks of anguish and torture just to be brought low by a humble worm. The irony of it made Legolas want to weep. "You will not die out here mellon nin. I will not allow it."

00

Hiram was waiting when Legolas returned, a shivering Aragorn in his embrace.

"Bring him here," the old farmer motioned to the soft bed in his room. He felt Aragorn's forehead and neck. The ranger was a little too cool, his breathing ragged and loud.

"Take off his cold clothes and wrap him well in the blankets."

Legolas did as he was bid standing aside for Hiram to place the lantern on the bedside table. Hiram probed at Aragorn's neck wound, finding it dry and without inflamation. He sighed, relieved that it had not begun to fester again. He reached for a dark bottle of paste but before he could open it Legolas stayed his hand with an iron grip.

"T'is only an ointment to help him breathe." Hiram said to him.

Still Legolas held on a little longer. "You are sure,"

Nodding Hiram said "Have I not taken care of him whilst you lay senseless. If I wanted to harm him, I could have done so already."

He rubbed the salve evenly over the ranger's heaving chest. The scent of mint, witch hazel and some other thing Legolas could not define wafted into the room. Soon Aragorn was breathing evenly.

"He will sleep well now." Hiram said softly, then tilting his sideways looked up at Legolas, "Isn't it about time for your medicine?"

Legolas did not answer but stared at the farmer, how did he always know when the worm began to move.

00

As the thick, warm liquid slid down into his ear, Legolas gagged as he always did. His grip on the table's edge intensified as it penetrated deeper. The worm as always struggled against the liquid's soporific effect, sending out shrills of distress so piercing that it made Legolas' nose bleed. The fight was over as usual in a matter of minutes but by then the elf was a bundle of jangling nerves and disoriented. Hiram guided him easily to the small cot, an end to the ritual that Legolas hated but could do nothing about, for the liquid did not only affect the worm, but the patient as well.

Hiram caressed the brow of the distressed elf, stroking the pointed tips of his ears gently. It was a liberty he knew the elf would never allow in his normal state. But Legolas was vulnerable, powerless as the liquid ran its course. His hand went up as though in supplication and Hiram took hold of it, fondling the long pale fingers. He was fascinated by this extraordinary being. Tears leaked out the sides of Legolas' eyes and Hiram bent nearer to wipe them away. Soon the elf would sleep leaving him free to indulge his curiosity.

………………………………………


	5. Chapter 5

5

Rain, it had started sometime during the night and had continued all morning long. It was bleak outside, a dull grey that hung over the sky. Legolas stood at the small window in the darkened room where Aragorn's slept looking out at the rain as it poured down in sheets of silver. He held out his hands and watched the water play over them, the cold drops felt good on his skin.

"Summer rain," said a voice and Legolas jumped.

Hiram was there, a lighted lantern in his hands. Legolas at once withdrew from the window pulling it shut to block out the rain. "What is it?" he asked looking at the farmer questioningly.

"I came to check on the lad."

Legolas watched as the old man examined Aragorn for signs of fever or contagion.

"He is a little warm, but I don't think it's anything to worry over."

"How can you tell from just touching him?" Legolas asked a bit sharply.

"I can tell many things," Hiram replied coolly. "It is a skill like any other."

'I am sorry," Legolas began, feeling ashamed of his suspicions. "It's just that…"

"Your head hurts." Hiram finished for him.

"Yes," Legolas agreed in puzzled amazement. "How do you know?"

"It is written on your body as clearly as parchment. The veins at your temples pulse strongly, your brow furrows unconsciously as you move. Your face is paler than is your wont. Something troubles you." Hiram continued. "Is it the fate of your friend that weighs heavily on you? Or is it your own fate?" As he spoke Hiram had moved toward Legolas, he caressed the elf's cheek with a gnarled hand.

Legolas did not move.

Hiram's hand felt as dry as the desert sand and as old as the mountains. Legolas felt his heart begin to pound as Hiram's thick fingers entangled gently in his hair.

"What is this soldier to you firstborn, beloved of the Valar?" Hiram whispered.

Legolas swayed towards him. "He is my friend…"

He would have said more, but Aragorn turned, groaning a little in his sleep. Legolas gasped as though he had been holding his breath.

"He will be fine," Hiram told him, hand on the elf's shoulder. "I'll see to the day's meals today, stay here with your friend."

Legolas nodded. Hiram left closing the door behind him. Legolas stared at the closed door for a few moments. But Aragorn was stirring and he turned to help him sit up.

000

Weeks passed and their lives fell into a numbing routine. Legolas spent his days, clearing, reaping and seeding various fields, while Aragorn vacillated between watching him and Hiram. The ranger had on many occasions helped the farmer to make the mixture that calmed the worm. In fact he had insisted that he learn how to make it, for it was his intention to find the missing component that would kill the creature and thus free them of this seeming bondage.

But each time he tried to remember how it was done, he could not recall anything. He attempted to commit the entire process to paper but again, key elements floated just out of memory's reach. In frustration he had all but given up. He feared that the fever had robbed him of his ability to remember. More than that, he felt strange. The weakness he had suffered from his first waking moment was a constant companion, dogging his heels as he slipped from day to day in mindless occupation. At first he had tried to help Legolas in the fields, but tired so quickly that his presence soon became superfluous. Thus he had taken it upon himself to cook their meals and clean the house thus easing Legolas of these chores.

Hiram was happy to have him in the house and was pleased to have such assistance, for he was going down in age, he was nigh into his sixtieth year. His hands were gnarled and hurt when it was cold, his knees not much better. He often set the ranger tasks that he could no longer do so well himself. These Aragorn did without a word of protest or question for the ranger did not want these additional responsibilities to fall to Legolas. Many times he was barely able to keep his eyes open when night fell.

One particular evening just after Aragorn had stumbled off to bed Hiram watched the elf bring in wood for the stove and then for the fire. He was covered with a thin sheen of sweat which made his body glow in the orange light of the flames.

"Come in and rest lad, you must be tired."

Legolas gave him a narrowed stare, the kitchen was empty save for the farmer.

"Where is Thorongil?" he asked.

"He wanted to wait for you but he was so tired I thought it best that he sleep."

Legolas looked down the darkened corridor. A deep sadness overcame him, but he was so weary himself that not a single coherent thought would come to him.

"Come," Hiram said. "Eat with me."

And Legolas sat and took up the wooden spoon. Hiram smiled, he liked to engage the elf in conversation.

00

Aragorn trembled and whimpered, caught in a horrific nightmare from which there was no escaping. It was cold, so cold. The wintry winds whipped his naked body mercilessly as he rocked back and forth cradling the fair head of his dying friend. Legolas' lips were blue from the cold and from his ears poured forth deep red blood. Aragorn cried as the wind moaned mournfully across the desolate landscape. What little warmth he once had, had long seeped away. "Help us," he pleaded with the man who stood there watching them with glittering eyes. Uttered from stiffening lips his plea fell on uncaring ears. The man turned and walked away, even as Aragorn reached out a quivering hand to him. Aragorn's sobs grew louder as weakness filled him.

00

Aragorn was listless at breakfast the next morning. He did not feel at all rested and though his belly was empty he was slightly nauseous at the sight of the porridge in his bowl. Hiram noted that the ranger was uncommonly pale and there was a tremor in his hands as he reached for his spoon.

"Do ye feel well lad?" he asked.

"Aye, I do." answered Aragorn.

Hiram frowned, sure that the boy was telling an untruth, yet said nothing more about it.

Legolas seemed oblivious to Aragorn's state. He ate quickly and donning an old cloak that hung from a peg on the wall near the door was ready to begin the day's work. At the doorway he paused, "Thorongil," he said.

Aragorn looked up.

"I could use some help in the north pasture today to bind the grass when you finish washing up. It halves the time with more hands than two to do the work."

Without waiting for a reply he left.

Aragorn stared at the open doorway. Everyday he would carry the luncheon meal out to the field so that they could have some time alone to speak while they ate, but more often than not, the minutes would pass in silence as there seemed to be nothing of importance to say. Nevertheless after his morning chores, Aragorn found himself hurrying across the fields. Legolas was already deep into his labours.

"Help me," Legolas said throwing a thick rope of vine to Aragorn. Together they wrestled two enormous stacks of grass into five neat bundles. Aragorn needed to rest and so they sat on the ground. Legolas looked toward the farmhouse. At last Hiram's shadow was gone from the window.

"Aragorn, listen to me. I want you to leave here now, quickly, head south and do not stop until you come to a village. Purchase a horse and then get to Gondor with all speed."

Taken aback Aragorn just sat there languidly on the ground.

"Aragorn do you hear me?" Legolas said anxiously rising to his knees.

" But what of you?" Aragorn asked, bewildered still.

"I will join you when I can," was Legolas' brusque response. "Quickly now, on your feet."

So saying he rose, pulling Aragorn upright in one swift movement. He shrugged off the old cloak he was wearing and folding it, put it in the ranger's arms.

"I can not leave you." Aragorn cried.

"You must. There is something evil here that seeks to end your life Aragorn. Your wound is fully healed yet you grow weaker daily. You do not sleep, you scarcely eat. You must leave this place." Legolas took four coins secreted in his waist and placed it in Aragorn's hands. He closed them shut over it. "Do not look back and do not stop mellon nin."

"Where did you get this," Aragorn whispered, looking down at the gold coins in his hand.

"It matters not." Legolas said shaking his head. He looked to the farmhouse. Hiram was nowhere to be seen.

"Come with me." Aragorn begged.

"You know that I cannot, by nightfall the pain would be too much to bear. I almost killed you the last time." Legolas stopped to put a skin of water he had hidden in the grass around Aragorn's shoulders.

He stepped back from the ranger, "Now go."

Aragorn took in the elf's dishevelled hair and drawn face. Clothed in worn working clothes and heavy boots he seemed already distant from him. Aragorn stepped forward and embraced him. He was relieved to feel Legolas' arms encircle his waist. A tear rolled down the ranger's face and then another. Legolas pulled back and wiped those tears with dirt stained fingers.

"Do not stop and do not look back," Legolas said brushing those wayward strands back from Aragorn's brow. His eyes roved the ranger's face as though committing every detail to memory.

But Aragorn did not move, he could not.

"If you love me go now Aragorn." Legolas said with shining eyes. "Please."

Aragorn fled, over the grassy fields he ran not stopping or looking back as he had been asked. But he did not need to look. He knew Legolas was standing there alone, watching him, until he disappeared from sight.

………………………………………………


	6. Chapter 6

6

When he could no longer see Aragorn, Legolas turned back to the work at hand. His breath came in shallow gasps, but soon he mastered his emotions. Blank faced he continued to cut and bind the wild grass into stacks that would be used later.

"_Where did you get this?" _

The question that Aragorn had asked floated into his mind from nowhere. He had not answered the ranger then, because what he had found was too fresh in his memory. But now… he looked up and across at the field that he had finished ploughing yesterday. It lay there quiet and unassuming. The furrows he had made were rich and brown, awaiting clearing and seeding. It had been easy enough to plough for the soil was rich and yielding. He had started at the northern end and had worked back and forth in straight lines pulling the heavy plough like a beast of burden. He had stumbled he remembered clearly, right where the boundaries of that field met the other and the blade of the plough had sunk deep into the soil.

Irritated he had tugged at the plough and finding it stuck applied tremendous force. The blade had wrenched free and with it had come a grisly surprise. Impaled on the end of the blade was a bone. A human bone. Shock, revulsion and then quiet had chased through him. He had fallen to his knees and begun to dig, slowly at first and then frantically until he had unearthed the entire thing. The mostly rotted body of a man lay there, his chest sunken in. The corpse's clothes, what little there was left, were ordinary, but his boots, similar to the ones that Legolas wore were mostly whole. With him had been buried a sword of no particular craft, a pipe, a rolled cloak, a blanket and a small cloth bag. All his worldly possessions. The bag crumbled as Legolas touched it and shiny coins spilled out. The corpse's hair was shoulder length and light brown. A young man then, as young as Aragorn or younger. Legolas had looked at the putrefied face and for a heartbeat had seen the ranger lying there. With a feeling of growing horror Legolas had begun to heap handfuls of dirt back onto the body.

A cold drop of rain brought him abruptly back to the present. Looking up at the sky, he saw that angry clouds had gathered above while he had worked. Almost immediately it began to pour, heavy drops of rain beat down on him as he stood there staring out over the fields. Though it was early evening the sky slowly turned dark.

The rain gradually turned the ground to mud and soon it fell so heavily that it was difficult to see. Legolas stood there until his hair was plastered to his head and his clothes stuck to his body.

"Even the elements turn against us." he said softly.

He wondered how far Aragorn had got and if he had found shelter from the unforgiving rain.

00

There was no place to shelter and all Aragorn could do was hunch his shoulders against the harsh rain. He was wrapped tightly in the slick hooded cloak that Legolas had given to him. He was already tired and hungry and the cold rain did nothing to ease his plight. He breathed through his mouth for his nose was already clogged. He could see nothing for the rain fell as heavily as snow. It was not long before he lost all sense of direction, yet he did not stop walking. His movement in itself gave him some small comfort. After what seemed like days but were in fact hours he began to see feeble lights in the distance. Giving a desperate laugh he pulled his cloak even tighter and hastened his step.

00

The farmhouse was dark when Legolas entered. A single lamp was burning on the far side of the room, its poor glow doing little to relieve the gloom. The pot full of stew sat on the cold stove and the fire place was unlit.

"Why don't you change off and then have something to eat."

The voice caught him by surprise. Legolas had not seen Hiram seated at the table. The old farmer was in deep shadow and only barest hint of his face showed in the lamp light. Legolas stared at him for a moment and then moved off to do as he was bid. In the room where he normally slept Legolas shrugged off his wet clothes, wrung them as dry as he could and hung them on the back of the solitary chair to dry. He took a blanket and dried himself and dressed in his own clothes. It felt good to wear them again. When he returned to the kitchen the place was transformed. The fire burned merrily and the lamps were all lit. There were two places set at the table. Hiram was smiling, "Sit," he said to the elf as he stood there uneasily.

00

Hiram talked all through the meal, he seemed in rather high spirits. Not once did he enquire as to the whereabouts of Aragorn. It was as though the farmer had forgotten all about him. Legolas could do little but think about the ranger, he pushed the food around his plate hearing nothing that Hiram said. He was only too aware of the unrelenting thunder of the rain as it fell.

00

As Aragorn walked his feet seemed to grow heavier. He had just about come to the end of his strength. He could see just barely see the place through the heavy curtain of the rain; it was just a little further. He shivered as a rivulet of water trickled down his spine and a sneeze wracked his body. It was just a little further.

00

Legolas only realised that Hiram had stopped speaking when the silence had gone on for too long. He looked up to see the farmer studying him intently. His obsidian eyes seemed to have absorbed the orange glow of the fire and they shone eerily at him. Abruptly Legolas stood, his plate untouched. There seemed to be malevolence in the farmer's look. But before he could take a step the worm suddenly shifted in his ear. The resultant shriek made him gasp, hand flying to his head instinctively. The worm slithered sending Legolas into a paroxysm of pain. He staggered sideways going down on one knee as he fought to maintain his equanimity. Hiram watched him struggle with hard, flat eyes.

"Please," Legolas beseeched him through pain clenched lips.

But Hiram only smiled. "Why should I show mercy firstborn?"

Legolas' mouth opened but no words could he speak, instead a piteous whine issued from his throat. Legolas crawled away from the farmer, head down mouth open as he struggled to contend with the pain. But Hiram was incensed and he caught at the elf's trailing hair. Jerking cruelly he brought Legolas to his knees.

"Did I not take you in, did I not bring you back from the very brink of death? And this is the gratitude you show me? All I asked in return was a small favour. Your company, your time. Surely it was not too much for one such as you." Hiram wrapped the length of hair he held around his fist tightly until the elf's neck was taut, the soft skin of his throat exposed. Legolas groaned as this new pain assaulted his already shattered senses.

"I cared for you, as a father would a son, yet you sit there unmindful of me. You abused my mercy time and time again, you insulted my kindness." The farmer's raspy voice grated over his battered nerves. "When you sent your friend away today I thought you finally understood. But I was wrong. You are as contemptuous of me as ever."

Legolas tried to speak, to deny the accusations, but only a pain filled sound emerged. With an angry sneer on his lips Hiram began to shakethe elfback and forth as though he were no more than a rag doll.

00

Aragorn yanked open the wooden door and tumbled into the house as Legolas' terrible cries filled the air. He barely registered the flash of Hiram's burning eyes before he threw himself at the farmer. A solid backhanded blow threw Aragorn against the wall. Stunned by the power of that blow the ranger wheezed like an old man. Hiram slammed the elf's head against the wall and then loosed his hold. Legolas dropped without a sound. Hiram turned fully to the ranger. In the lamp light he looked bigger and suddenly dangerous. His maddeningly calm smile was on his face.

"You should 'a stayed gone boy." said the farmer.

……………………………………………


	7. Chapter 7

7

Offspring of an Uruk Hai father and a woman of the Dunlending tribe, Bak was unusually strong. He had grown in the hills of Rohan until the death of his mother caused him to flee his birthplace to the plains below, for none of the tribe welcomed this lynx eyed young man as one of their own. Years he had roamed, living off stray sheep and cattle for no farmer would employ him for long and he feared the bigger villages where permanent work might be had. They all shied away from his flat gaze and strange face.

Then on one stormy night he had taken refuge in the storage shed of a small farm, hungry and tired he had fallen asleep on a bale of dried grass. Hiram had found him there, old and mostly blind the farmer had been glad of the company and pressed the young half breed to stay on. It seemed a dream to the young man whose life had been filled with such loneliness and hatred before. The old farmer was quite garrulous and he chattered non-stop of plants, medicine, the curing of wounds and ham, the growing of peas and corn. He taught Bak the secrets of brewing drink and curative tonics. By the end of the first month Bak knew he was at last home.

The farm had gone to seed but by dint of the young man's efforts the fields were soon filled with crop and the pastures were tilled and green. Every night the old farmer and the young man would sup together, Bak unconsciously imitating Hiram's manner of speech and behaviour for he had had no teacher before this. Hiram named him son and Bak was at last fulfilled.

Ten years passed quickly as time does when one is happy and one morning Hiram did not awaken. Bak's grief was terrible to see. But at last he laid the old man tenderly in a grave lined with flowers and stalks of grass. His life was over. He packed a few things in a sack and shouldering its meagre weight intended to move on. But he had not got far when turning for a final look it seemed to him wrong somehow to abandon his only home, the only place he had known happiness. Was he not Hiram's son and heir after all? He took his father's name and farm, all he needed was a companion.

Hiram's farm lay in the outer most reaches of the fertile valley of Rohan and not many passed that way. Those who did however never left. Hiram himself never understood how he made them stay, but stay they did as Hiram tried to recapture the only happiness he had ever known…

00

Aragorn felt his life slipping away as Hiram's large hands crushed his neck. He kicked out ineffectually, his feet tapping against the farmer's thick legs. Hiram shook him and Aragorn's head flopped back weakly. The ranger's fingers dug at the implacable hands at his neck, but Hiram felt nothing, so great was his rage. Blackness filled Aragorn's vision and his body began to tremble.

The first blow took Hiram by surprise, he staggered sideways a little but his hands remained fixed around Aragorn's neck. The second blow rang off his skull. Hiram dropped like a felled ox. Legolas, who had harnessed just enough control to do the deed, followed him to the ground. The elf searched Hiram's clothes frantically,

Sucking in large gulps of air Aragorn dropped to his knees beside the groaning elf.

"What do you seek?"

"Key, the key to the storage room. The medicine." Legolas gasped. His ears had begun to bleed.

Aragorn's fingers joined the frantic search. They encountered a large brass key secreted in a pouch around the farmer's waist.

"Hurry---Aragorn---hurry." Legolas' voice was a mere whisper as Aragorn scrambled to his feet.

The door opened onto a darkened interior, a quick scratch of the flint and the lamp was lit. Aragorn looked around; the room was filled from top shelf to bottom with jars of dark liquid. With a sense of growing doom Aragorn lifted first one and then another, which was it?

A pain filled scream from the kitchen galvanized him, snatching up the most awful looking brew he ran back to see Legolas moaning on the ground as he held his head in his hands. The elf's reddened eyes raised to the jar he held.

"Quickly Aragorn." Legolas urged.

Aragorn got down on his knees; he placed the jar on the floor and said "I do not know if this is the right one, there are hundreds of jars in that room. I …I chose one." his eyes were wide with fear.

"Then it is the right one." Legolas rasped barely getting the words out through his clenched jaw. "Please," he said touching the ranger's hand. He turned his head sideways exposing his left ear.

With a shaking hand Aragorn poured in the thick liquid. It was warm and felt vaguely animate, some of it spilt onto the elf's neck and chest, but most of it went in.

When it was all gone Aragorn knelt back. Legolas was still, waiting for the medicine to take effect. There was a tingling in his ear that he had never felt before. He squeezed his eyes shut. The tingling increased. Aragorn watched him anxiously sure that he had chosen wrong.

The tingling turned into a slight burning. Legolas turned surprised eyes to Aragorn concerned face.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked breathlessly.

But the burning had increased and Legolas could do no more than mouth the words. The flames had turned cold. The cold rushed to every part of his body turning his muscles to straw. With a sigh the elf's eyes fluttered and he went limp in the arms of the ranger.

"No, oh no!" Aragorn's quiet horror was heartbreaking.

00

Aragorn buried him in the cold light of early morning. There were no words to say, no need for remorse, he had done his grieving during the night and had nothing left to give now. As he spread the rich soil flat on the grave he thought that it was not such a bad place to end one's days. He trailed the shovel behind him as he dragged himself back to the farmhouse. He let it lie on the ground beside the doorway. There was one more grave yet to be dug. The kitchen was cold, for neither the stove nor the fire was lit, but there was no need for warmth now.

He made his way to the back room and sat on the edge of the cot. Legolas still lay as still as stone. He reached tentatively and caught a few wisps of gold hair around his fingers. The few tendrils stirred in the wind that blew in through the open window. Aragorn touched Legolas' chest hoping to feel some movement but there was nothing. Steeling himself he stood and slid one arm under the elf's shoulders and the next under his legs. Legolas' body was limp and easy to carry. He walked through the house on wooden legs. To the pasture he carried him, altogether avoiding the field in which he had buried Hiram. On the grass he placed him and then courage deserted him, he could not bury his friend out here unnamed in a fallow field. His tears fell thickly as he clutched Legolas to him, he began to rock back and forth like a hurting child with his doll.

Aragorn's jerky movement caused the disintegrated body of the worm to dislodge from the elf's ear, for the medicine had indeed done its work well. The pulp that had been the worm rolled wetly down Legolas' shoulder and onto Aragorn's bare forearm. The ranger was startled by the cold slimy feel of it. He looked at it in surprise and then in wonder. How could such a small thing cause so much pain? In sudden disgust Aragorn shook his hand and flung the thing from him.

"It is dead mellon nin, you can wake up now." Aragorn whispered to the unhearing body in his arms. A hysterical giggle threatened to burst free from his mouth. Clamping down on his despair Aragorn shook the elf again. "Wake up Legolas, awake. It is a long, lonely road to Gondor."

There was the slightest of sighs in response.

……………………………………………


	8. Chapter 8

8

Days passed, many days in which Aragorn had all but convinced himself that he had imagined the sound. Yet still, Legolas lay there uncorrupted, silent, peaceful, not breathing yet alive. The ranger held his head in his hands. What punishment was this, to save him from one cursed fatejust to grant him another. At the end of the very first day Aragorn had gone in dread to the room, there to examine the jars with a faint hope of finding something, anything to help. He took a taste here a sniff there, trying to identify the contents of each one. But there were so many of them, too many of them and as the days passed he realized he could not hope to stumble upon the right one by chance in another rash attempt at saving Legolas' life. Try as he might Aragorn could not recall any remedy of worth to counteract the effects of the 'cure'; it was as though all his years of herb lore had vanished in the wind.

His was a pitiful state. Worry had put dark circles under his eyes. His nails were worn ragged by interminable vigils in the room where he had laid his friend to sleep and long forays in that darkened place that held the key to their release. Did he eat, maybe now and then, he could not recall. He slept only when his eyes became too heavy tokeep open. No longer did he think of life beyond the walls of the farm, Gondor seemed a world away. It seemed that Hiram's will was done regardless. He moved now to open up the small wooden window for the day had begun and the night ended. The light fell into the room and lit up the cot on which Legolas lay sleeping, maybe dreaming, maybe dying. Aragorn watched him as he did every day waiting for some sign, some sound. But there was nothing.

As he sat there listlessly on the straight backed chair on one day out of the many that had gone, the rain began to fall as it did off and on. It was of some comfort to him for it broke the monotony of near silence that he had had to endure of late. He got up, his body protesting for a fleeting moment and shuffled to the window. Grey clouds hung over the place and the rain fell in silver streams from the sky. He put a hand out to touch the cold fat drops. They stung his flesh yet he did not move, he did not move for hours. He did not move until the false grey sky turned to the true darkness of night.

The wind that blew over the plains grew cold, it made him shiver. Running a tired hand through his brown hair Aragorn pulled the window shut. The room was in darkness but he knew the way. He found the lantern and lit it, the glow cast shadows on the walls. He moved to the kitchen there to light another lamp. He was hungry he found and he rooted around for something to ease the emptiness in his belly. There was not much, for no one had harvested from the fields and what remained was fast perishing. In a few minutes he sat at the wood table a cold unappetizing meal before him. It was not long before he fell asleep.

How long he slept he did not know but the cold had seeped into his skin, his bones, his very heart. Shivering he sat up, his exhaled breaths forming puffs of mist. He lurched to his feet and he looked around wondering at the cold, but there was nothing amiss. He rubbed his arms for warmth and thought that he should see to his companion, he had left him alone for far too long. The corridor was dark and seemed longer than it should be. The door to the bedroom was shut though he knew he had left it open. He reached for the old iron handle but its freezing touch made him pull back sharply.

"Legolas," he gasped and he pushed against the door boldly. It slammed against the wall making an oddly hollow echo. The shadows in the room seemed to dance as the flames flickered in the lantern, but they were nothing compared to the vision in the corner.

A young man stood at the side of the bed, though stood was not the correct word for Aragorn could see through him.

"Get away," the ranger cried, uncaring of the nature of the spirit hovering there. But the young man who had been looking down at the elf, now turned his golden eyes on Aragorn. Aragorn's breath stilled in his throat as the force of those eyes held him, pierced him. The young man seemed to shiver and was suddenly directly before him. Aragorn took a sudden deep breath in mortal fear. The cold emanating from the ghost's form paralysed him. But abruptly the thing was gone, passing him and slipping into the corridor, though not completely for one of its cold hands grasped Aragorn's by the wrist.

A frightened sound left the ranger's throat but the ghost was not deterred. It chilly insistence was plain. It pulled the reluctant ranger down the darkened corridor. Into the room laden with jars it took him and then released it awful hold. Aragorn caught his wrist up to his chest and leaned against the wall for support for his strength was leaking away with each second that passed. Only wheezing breaths came from his open mouth. The young man paid no further attention to him, it drifted down the length of the room a sigh wafting from it as it went past the shelves of liquid suffering. It seemed to be looking for something.

When it stopped Aragorn shuddered for the level of coldness in the room increased ten fold. The young man turned to face him then and the thing's eyes seemed to burn with golden light. Aragorn felt himself drawn to that light. He was on his feet and walking before he knew it.

The jar was on the bottom shelf at the very back hidden behind bigger bottles. Aragorn pulled it forward and held it in his hands. He turned to the young man his fear forgotten.

"What is this?" he asked.

The young man of handsome face, golden brown hair and gold eyes opened his mouth but no words came forth, instead he lifted a pointed finger to his mouth.  
"I do not understand," Aragorn said plaintively.

Again the young man pointed to his mouth. As Aragorn yet again began to ask another question the young man's head went up as though hearing something. Abruptly he began to move away.

"No, wait, wait." Aragorn begged, but the young man was already gone.

The sun was streaming in the open window of the kitchen, its rays bathing Aragorn's head as he remained slumped at the old wooden table dreaming.

He woke much later soaked with sweat and tired. He rose from his place at the table unsteadily, his neck and back hurting from his hard bed. He realised that almost half of the new day had passed. Appalled by his lack of vigilance he ran to Legolas' room half expecting to see the spectre of his nightmare dancing there. But the room was empty save for his friend and there was no change in his condition at all. Aragorn stiffly crossed the room to open the narrow window. Refreshing air and light flowed in and Aragorn sat at the very edge of the cot fingers twined in his lap. A strange sort of hope fluttered in his chest for he remembered the dream very clearly. But what if there was no jar there, what if...

He paused as the door; the room was dark and musty as usual for there were no windows here. Reluctantly he crossed the threshold. Slowly he crept along the row of shelves his heart pounding in his ears. At the corner where the shelves met the wall he knelt. Feeling his way in the dimness he pushed two large bottles out of his way. His hands brushed nothing but air. A hitched breath of disappointment escaped him. But then anger took over and lying on the floor he pushed all the jars within reach out of the way. He stretched himself out full length and felt blindly along the roughly hewn wood. There was nothing, nothing at all. Despair filled him then, despair at his own foolishness and hope. He began to weep, great heaving sobs that wracked his body and soul. Hiding his face in the crook of his arm he wailed. His outstretched fingers clawed at the hard wood beneath it.

He was drained, yet he gathered himself together and stood. He wiped the last traces of tears from his hot swollen face. He returned to the room where Legolas lay and held him upright to arrange the stuffed cushion beneath his head. He arranged his friend's limbs in a more comfortable position and began to remove the bedding from beneath him. He had not changed them in a few days and thought that it was due. Legolas was unclothe, for since the first day he had fallen ill Aragorn had removed his torn and bloodied garments and swaddled him in a rough but clean blanket. But this too he now removed and bathed Legolas with the tepid water from the well at the back of the house. His hair he combed through with his fingers and kissed the elf's cool forehead before laying him back down on clean sheets. Aragorn stared at his friend's face for a long time before he forced himself to move.

Out in the garden he reaped heaps of cabbage and carrots. Venturing further he found a bed of mushrooms and added some to his basket. The work was repetitive but not tiring and it helped him keep his thoughts at bay. Soon though the little basket was full and he returned to the kitchen. He washed and cut up the vegetables. He refilled the water barrel, washed the iron pot and soon had a hot fire going. He waited until the stew began to boil before he went around to the back of the house, stripped off his clothing and began to bathe. He poured the warm water over his head and let out a sound of pure pleasure as it streamed down the length of him. He washed and washed as though he could wash away his mistakes and pain.

The food was ready and its delicious smell made his mouth water. He scooped out a bowl for himself, but instead of sitting at the table he sat in the open doorway, looking out at the vast stretches of land that marked the boundaries of his home, for he had at last accepted that they would never leave this place. He stayed there a while watching the clouds as they floated by, his mind lost in reverie. But at last it was time to go in for evening had come and the winds from the south had begun to blow cold. Aragorn rose and turned and the spoon fell from the bowl to thump on the floor. Aragorn bent to retrieve it from beneath the chair. But before he could pick it up his hands began to tremble as he caught sight of the jar lying on its side beneath the table where it had rolled when it had fallen out of his hands the night before.

The room filled with the scent of something so pungent that it caused Aragorn's eyes to water, but he continued rubbing the unguent into Legolas' limbs. In deference to the ghost he had already coated the elf's tongue with the heady ointment. At last he was forced to seek refuge outside for the overpowering scent made him swoon. Clutching an old blanket to himself Aragorn prepared to wait.

Morning came at last and with it bright sunlight. The light dazzled his eyes when he awoke for he had been asleep awhile. Clutching his blanket to his shoulders he made his way to the front door. It was wide open as it had been left during the night. Frowning he paused for a moment wondering what he would find beyond. But then he stepped through the doorway. His frown turned to a smile as he saw Aragorn curled up on the cold ground fast asleep.

"You must be the laziest soldier I've ever met," said Legolas in a voice that was barely above a hoarse rasp, but that sound was enough to awaken the sleeping man.

Aragorn rubbed his eyes as though he could not give credence to the image before him.

"Legolas," was all he said before the elf found himself smothered in the ranger's arms.

00

Two weeks passed before Legolas was back to some semblance of his normal self and in that time Aragorn came to know the resting place of the ghost that had haunted him. They burned his body hoping that his spirit would find peace. As they watched the flames die Legolas said,

"He spoke to me while I slept and told me of the horrors inflicted upon him and the others."

"Others," Aragorn's startled eyes sought his out his friend's.

"There were nine of them in all, buried out here in the fields, all murdered by Hiram each time they sought to leave or grieved for their homes."

Aragorn did not know what to say, he recalled his ongoing weakness in Hiram's presence. Who knew what evil he had wielded?

"We should destroy this place; evil abides here and will not be moved." Legolas said softly.

Aragorn did not argue.

The flames consumed the old farm with a hungriness that startled the two. They watched until there was nothing left and then turned south to begin their journey. Aragorn looked back as they reached the top of the rise. He seemed reluctant to turn away, almost hypnotised by the blackened ruins, but Legolas touched his arm and the ranger turned to his friend startled.

"Come, we have a long road before us," said Legolas and putting his arm around Aragorn's shoulders they began the long journey to Gondor.

……………………………………..

THE END


End file.
